


Black is the Clour (WIP)

by Astoneve (dennydearest)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Merlin, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Sexual Abuse, F/F, F/M, Kidnapped Merlin, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Top Arthur, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:10:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4542780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dennydearest/pseuds/Astoneve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Balinor's exile, the witchfinder Aredian follows him to the town of Ealador, where he discovers that the Dragon Lord has taken a wife who is with child. Knowing the likelihood of the child being born with magic, Aredian tracks Hunith until she gives birth to a son. Within hours, Hunith and Balinor lose their only son and Aredian takes the baby - who Hunith christened Merlin - and raises him as a sideshow attraction, eventually traveling with him to Camelot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dragon Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, I'm just starting this one out soooo yep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The witchfinder continued to stare, eyes combing the woman’s body as he felt himself growing hot, heavy in his trousers.  
> Blue eyes, dark hair...and such a pretty mouth.

A heavy mist had fallen over the Valley of the Fallen Kings and a thick snow blanketed the grass beneath the feet of the weary Dragonlord. A harsh wind surged through the space between the mountains, creating an updraft that stung the man’s face and reddened his eyes. He knew that he had been followed - Camelot wanted him dead. He stared up blearily into the blustery sky, the full moon scarcely shimmering through the masses of angry anvalheads.  
So cold.  
So tired.  
Balinor glanced behind himself, eyeing the tracks his boots had left in the powdery snow, the light downfall of soft white filling them quickly enough. Tugging his coat tighter around himself, he trudged on through the valley, heedless of the cutting blusters of winter air as he made his way home.  
Well, it wasn’t exactly home. He was a wanderer, however he had found what he could call home.  
Her name was Hunith, and she was beautiful. With gentle, liquid eyes and soft curls that framed her homely face, she was his home. Wherever Hunith was, that was where Balinor yearned to be. And she was in Ealdor, leagues from Camelot and its tyranny.  
_Safe_.

From the boughs of an oak tree, a pair of vicious, calculating eyes honed in upon the Dragon Lord as he entered into Ealdor and instantly went to the door of a small cottage. It was a simple place, nothing much but four walls of mud brick covered by a grass roof, with a small chimney poking out the top. Simple. The witchfinder curled his lip in distaste.  
Balinor raised a hand to knock, but the door flew open, a plain-but-pretty young woman nearly felling him with a warm embrace as he let out a shocked _Oomf_! The witchfinder continued to stare, eyes combing the woman’s body as he felt himself growing hot, heavy in his trousers.  
Blue eyes, dark hair...and such a pretty mouth. But wait!  
Aredian turned his head questioningly. She seemed quite plump.  
Plump.  
His lips parted in a twisted grin. Yes, she seemed plump; heavy in the middle. Only an idiot couldn’t see that she bore a heavy load, though only the very beginnings of one. A child. Perhaps even...  
The idea struck like a bolt of lightning, nearly shocking him from his perch in the oak.  
A child of a Dragon Lord. A child born not of - but with - magic. Some people would pay quite a pretty price just to see one. Then, he knew. The fire burning in his gut for the dark hair, the crystal eyes, told him so.

When Hunith finally gave birth - weeks earlier than planned - Aredian was thrilled. The baby boy had the same eyes - crystalline cerulean blue - and onyx dark curls that bounced upon his pale head. Two weeks later, Hunith awoke to find her child gone.  
His tiny form lay swaddled in the cage of the witchfinder’s cart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lsdkfjhsf I'm sorry this is shitty but I really felt bad with the whole "coming soon" bit so here's something even though it's trash sorry Isdfujdhfg


	2. Six Years Hence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is six years old and loves the stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been absolutely forever since I updated, so I decided to put this up, even though it's really short and I'm not entirely pleased with it. 
> 
> There's been a lot going on in my life, but I'll be on summer break soon and get a lot more time to write, especially now that I don't have such a fog over my head! 
> 
> Thank you so much for waiting!!

The boy was always cold, ever since he could remember. Even when his dark hair had grown down under his ears, curling at the tips and saturated with sweat. Coldness and sweat went together, right? Master always said so, so it must have been true. Occasionally, he would turn his wide eyes to his caretaker, in hope of sympathy, but in return would only receive a glare that would leave him shivering more than before. Merlin brushed his bluish fingertips against the etched symbols carved into his heavy iron collar and smiled to himself. The collar meant that his Master still wanted him, unlike anyone else. Staring out through the bars of his little crate - which looked much like a birdcage, with its rounded top and fanciful swirls cast of iron - the boy could see the stars.

If there was anything he loved more than his Master, it was the stars. He loved their twinkling glow that seemed to pin the velvet night up into the sky as the clouds would dance across and around the moon. To him, the moon was really just one of those bright silver coins that his Master was given for allowing others to see Merlin, sometimes more if they wished to touch. He never much liked any of them, but it kept his Master happy, so he never put up a fight. If he was particularly good, the Master would bring him a bowl of hot stew, instead of his usual sloppy gruel. Sometimes, he would even be let out of his cage, free to roam. Master Aredian always warned him not to run away, but why would he? He had everything he needed right here, safe in his cage, even a small white mouse he named Aithusa, though he was never quite sure why.

Merlin coughed harshly, wiping away the bloody phlegm that always spattered from his lips.

“Shut it!”

Flinching, the boy curled in on himself as Aredian stormed out from his tent. He didn’t speak. He never spoke. Master didn’t like it.

“What’s the matter? Waking me up at this hour, boy? What is it?” Aredian demanded, shaking the bars of Merlin’s cage for emphasis.

Merlin let out a small grunt, azure eyes wide and apologetic. He held his hands up in protest as tears began to carve rivulets down his dusty cheeks.

Aredian snarled as he turned away, his cape flipping in the wind. In a few days time, they would arrive in Camelot, home of the ruthless King Uther Pendragon and his son, Arthur, who was two years older than his captive. The Golden Prince, as the people of Camelot called him. A beautiful child with flaxen hair and sun kissed skin, jewel-like eyes and plump figure, with a kindness in his heart that his father lacked. Their young savior. The Once and Future King of all of Albion. Aredian longed to poison his mind. To gain control of his innocence and, using his caged little falcon, lord over Albion himself.


End file.
